The Spanking
by delightful-fear
Summary: Sherlock has broken some rules. He needs a spanking. Things go a little too far... (JOHNLOCK, AU, Drabble sequel to Grind Me Down)


"Go into the bedroom and strip, Sherlock. Wait for me on your knees."

"But I-"

John just glared at his sub, his gaze unwavering. It took a full minute, time seeming to slow down, until Sherlock dropped his eyes to the floor.

Pivoting on his heel, Sherlock stomped out of the living room, his back ramrod straight with indignation. The door slammed behind him, and John just shook his head, clenching his teeth at the flagrant challenges to his authority.

He hadn't been this angry in ages, and it took several minutes of deep, slow breaths until he felt the tension releasing from his tight muscles. He rolled his shoulders, shaking out his arms, and went to the kitchen to drink a large glass of water.

He refilled it, and carried it to the bedroom, knocking once before he entered. He put the glass on the bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed to survey everything.

The bed was messy, and Sherlock's clothes were thrown everywhere. Looking at his sub, he saw the sage green eyes were watching him closely. Arching an eyebrow slightly at this, John scanned downwards. Sherlock was naked, his body slim and lightly muscled. Beautiful as always.

Sherlock knew he was looking, and he subtly pulled his shoulders back, elongating his torso. Showing off, enjoying the admiring gaze of his dom. His cock was getting harder, standing at about half mast.

John sighed, getting up off the bed to walk slowly around his sub, examining him closely. The long pale expanse of his back. His strong legs. The thick curls he loved digging his hands into. The delicious curve of his ass. The full lips that had tempted John right from the start. The whip-smart mind showing through his green eyes, the pupils dilating with his arousal.

This turned them both on. The waiting. The anticipation. John teased Sherlock mercilessly, small touches and flirty looks, praise and all the little attentions he craved doled out slowly. Building it gradually over days. Letting it burst into intense sessions, always exactly when and how John wanted it.

But this was different. John tried to breathe through the anger that kept bubbling up, and knew he had to deal with it before he touched his sub. He needed to stay in control, of both of them.

"Sherlock, do you want to stay my sub?"

The question was sharp, and Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise.

"Um, yes," he replied quickly, licking his lips nervously. "Yes, sir."

John tutted. "They say that actions speak louder than words. Your actions are saying something very different. Shouting it, in fact."

"It was for a case. I didn't-"

"Shut your mouth," John interrupted harshly, staring at Sherlock until he dropped his gaze. "Speak only when I ask you a direct question. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Sherlock replied.

"Do you remember our rules?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell them to me."

"No cumming without your permission. Obeying you without hesitation. Safe wording. Sir."

"Stand up."

Sherlock obeyed, still directing his eyes downwards.

John considered the man he had been living with for over a year now. They had been in a D/S relationship for about ten months, and boyfriends for half a year. Every step, deepening their relationship, had required adjustments. Was that what was needed now?

"You forgot a rule," John said, trying to keep his voice normal. Not showing how hurt he was. "The rule you asked for."

"That we are exclusive."

Sherlock supplied it without being asked, but John didn't berate him for this. It was now time for the truth.

He put a few fingers under Sherlock's chin, raising it so their eyes met. "Sherlock, do you want to change any of the rules? Do you want to stop being exclusive?"

"No! Sir," Sherlock said quickly, shifting slightly on his feet. His eyes showed his concern, his fear.

"We could open our relationship. Many gay men do. Allow for outside contact. I have always found that D.I. very attractive," John said, in a softer tone.

Emotions swirled in Sherlock's expressive eyes. Hurt, fear, anger, jealousy. "No, sir. I want to stay exclusive."

"Because you don't want to see me with Greg Lestrade? Don't want to see us standing close together? Holding hands, kissing? Imagining what we are doing behind closed doors?" John whispered, letting the words paint images of those exact things on Sherlock's brain.

Shaking his head, Sherlock tilted his face downwards. "No, sir. I don't want to see that."

"Then how do you think I felt, finding out my boyfriend had gone home with someone from a gay bar? Finding you together, half-undressed, on his sofa?" John had to turn away, the images too vivid in his memory. Hurt and anger had him almost shaking again.

"I'm sorry, sir."

It took a minute or two before John had calmed down enough to face Sherlock.

"Do you remember when you went off to Cornwall? What did you do wrong then?" John asked, his commanding tone back.

Sherlock swallowed hard. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I was reckless and made everyone worry about me."

"I know it was for a case tonight, but you broke several rules. You didn't tell anyone where you were going. You were reckless and put yourself in danger. You were intimate with another man."

Sherlock opened his mouth like he was going to argue back, but then he nodded, looking downwards again. "Yes, sir."

John sighed. And now came the hardest question of the night. "You have broken the rules, and it has made it hard for me to trust that you won't do it again. So, now you need to decide. We can break-up and I will move out. You will be free to do whatever you want, whenever you want. Whoever you want..." John's voice almost broke with emotion, trying to get all that out.

"No, John! Please, I'm so, so sorry," Sherlock said, dropping to his knees and looking up at John beseechingly. He looked truly bereft, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"The other option is that we stay together, but that I punish you. It will hurt. You will be sore for several days afterwards, as a reminder of what you did wrong." John's voice shook as he said this, his emotions so turbulent.

Sherlock nodded, tears running down his face now, looking miserable. "Yes, please. I have been very bad, and I deserve a hard punishment. Please, please, John. Sir."

John's heart went out to the crying man in front of him. Part of him wanted to drop down on his knees, hug and comfort him. Wipe away his tears and cuddle him until they fell asleep.

But that wouldn't teach Sherlock anything, and John never wanted a situation like this to happen again. Sure, Sherlock had identified the killer with his superior deduction skills at the gay bar, but he could have taken some undercover police with him. Could have told them who he thought the suspect was. Instead, he had gotten close to the man, danced and flirted with him, let him take him to his flat. It was pure luck that an informant knew the killer's address, and John and Lestrade had gotten there so fast. What if they had found Sherlock too late? His limp body in the river?

Swallowing down his emotions, John nodded, pulling his posture back into a dom stance. "Fine. Go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. Clean up this room. I will come back in fifteen minutes, and expect you to be kneeling and ready."

John whirled away, slamming the door behind himself out of petty revenge. He really needed to get ahold of himself. His emotions were too close to the surface.

Grabbing his cellphone and keys, John left the flat. It was cool and very dark out, the silence of the late hour making his footfalls seem overly loud. His heartbeat seemed to be pounding in his ears.

By the time he had walked a few blocks, he was calmed down again. He climbed the stairs, now resolved in what he needed to do.

Opening the bedroom door, he was pleased to see the room was tidy, and Sherlock was kneeling as ordered. His face was dry, his messy hair more tamed. A red mark on his neck the only visible sign of what had happened earlier. It made a hot spike of possessiveness flare inside John, but he tamped it back down.

John slipped off his shoes and socks, and took off his jumper. Wearing jeans and a tucked in dress shirt, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Sherlock, come kneel before me."

His sub quickly did as ordered, his large hands resting on his thighs, his gaze on the floor.

"Tell me what you are being punished for, Sherlock."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Being reckless. Not telling people where I was going. Not being exclusive."

"What is your safe word?"

Sherlock looked up in surprise at that. "Concesso."

John's lips pressed into a thin line. "Even though you are being punished, Sherlock, you can still say your safe word. I do not want to go beyond what you think you can handle. That is abuse, not punishment. This won't be something you enjoy, but it will be bearable."

Sherlock nodded, looking back down. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. Some of his worries addressed.

"Climb up on to the bed. On all fours over my lap," John instructed.

Breath hitching a little, Sherlock moved fast. His naked body was over John's, his knees pressing against the outside of his thigh, and Sherlock's large hands making the mattress dip under his weight on the other side.

"Lower yourself down. Lie across my lap," John said firmly.

Sherlock did as ordered, stretching out along the end of the bed. His hands reached the one side and his lower legs dangled off the other. It probably wasn't the most comfortable position, but he didn't complain.

John's dom side was mollified slightly by Sherlock's obedience so far. He seemed contrite and every motion showed his willingness to make up for his transgressions. Time to see the extent of that.

Resting his hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck, John felt a surge of possessiveness again. This was his man. It was time to reclaim him. He ran his hand down Sherlock's spine, his ass, his thigh. Petting him. Claiming his skin.

Sherlock shifted slightly on John's lap, his breath coming a little faster. It wasn't difficult to know why. John could feel his cock getting hard against his leg.

The chemistry between them was as strong as ever, and John loved how quickly Sherlock responded to his touch. How quickly he could reduce this brilliant man into an aroused, distracted mess. It had taken months and months to train him to react like this, and John loved it. It would never be something John punished him for.

John continued the strokes, reacquainting himself with this side of his sub. His lover. Sherlock sank into his touch, surrendering to it, relaxing across his lap. His cock was completely hard now, nudging against John's thigh.

Concentrating on the pale perfect skin of his ass, John pulled back his hand and slapped it down hard.

Sherlock stiffened in surprise, letting out a sound somewhere between a grunt of pain and a groan. But he quickly relaxed again, surrendering to more.

John watched the bright red mark appear on Sherlock's ass, and traced it with a light fingertip. Pressed into the red skin until it went pale, and let go, seeing it flush quickly back to red. Within a minute, the bright red faded to light pink.

He was surprised to find his own breathing faster, and knew it wasn't from the exertion of a single slap. He was aroused by this. Fascinated by it. Something he never thought was his thing.

He slapped the other cheek, and then kept going. Building to harder, faster slaps. Hearing the sound of his hand hitting Sherlock's skin, seeing the redness persisting.

Breathing hard now mostly from exertion, John paused. Sherlock was panting as well, his ass lifted slightly at a strange angle. Was that to be at a better position for the slaps? Did he want more? Harder?

John wasn't that experienced in pain play. He got off on dominance. Subtle control. Being obeyed. This really wasn't his thing, was it?

"Why do you have your hips up like that, Sherlock? Wouldn't it be better if you lowered them?"

He ran a hand over Sherlock's red ass, sending a hard shudder through the man. "Sherlock, answer me. Do you want to safeword?"

"No, sir." Sherlock said, his voice almost breathless, strained. "I'm trying to not break another rule."

John lowered his brows, confused. "Which rule?" He ran a hand down Sherlock's back to comfort him, noticing that it was covered in sweat.

"Not to cum without your permission, sir," Sherlock said softly, sounding ashamed.

Oh. John looked at Sherlock's position, and realized he was trying to reduce the pressure of his cock against John's leg. "Get up on all fours again."

His sub obeyed, his legs shaking a little. What had aroused John a little had obviously effected his sub much more strongly. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock, stroking it slowly. Precum on the tip made his hand slick. It usually took a lot more to get his sub to this state. Sherlock was hanging his head, panting, his body shuddering occasionally as John slowly stroked him a few times.

Right now, he felt a strong urge to just prep Sherlock, and shove deep inside him. Fuck him, pound into him, feeling him shuddering, shimmering, right on the precipice. Knowing with a few hard strokes, he could have Sherlock cumming harder than he had for months. It would be great for both of them.

But that would hardly be punishment, would it?

Instead he pulled his hand away. "Get on your knees."

Sherlock instantly obeyed, his legs shaky. He knelt beside the bed as he had before.

Getting off the bed, John undressed, knowing Sherlock's eyes were on him the whole time. Wanting him. After months together, he knew how much Sherlock craved his body. His approval. His touch.

Standing in front of Sherlock, John put his hand on the back of his neck. "Open up," he said, looking down at those perfect lips.

Sherlock immediately obeyed, his eyes meeting John's as he pushed his thick cock into his mouth. Pushing deep right away, holding there until Sherlock's eyes started to water, and he squirmed involuntarily.

John pulled back, letting Sherlock catch his breath. They had done this often, and John knew what his sub could take. Knew he loved taking John to the base, even though it wasn't easy. Loved being pushed. Loved being used for his dom's pleasure.

"That is good, Sherlock. So good," John panted, getting close. "I will let you cum, even though you have been a bad boy."

He could feel Sherlock respond to that, sucking on John even harder.

"The only condition is that you have to do it without being touched. While I fuck your mouth," John said, pushing deeper until he felt Sherlock gag slightly. He pulled back a little, but kept making each thrust deeper. "You can't safeword like this. Double tap my leg if you want to stop. Blink twice if you understand."

Sherlock blinked twice, holding John's gaze steadily, even though his eyes were watering.

John felt on the edge of his control then, grabbing Sherlock's head with both hands to tilt him to the perfect angle. "My good little cocksucker," John groaned, pushing deep.

He could feel Sherlock's body tighten, responding to his praise, sucking harder.

"My little sub is full of surprises today. You liked me spanking that beautiful ass, didn't you?" John hissed, looking down into Sherlock's eyes as he pushed deep again.

He felt it then, Sherlock's complete surrender. Going into sub space, his eyes almost entranced. His throat relaxing slightly to take John easier.

"You are such a little slut for it, aren't you? Needed your ass spanked raw. Such a dirty slut you were getting off on it, weren't you?" John panted.

"Cum now, Sherlock," John ordered, shoving his cock deep and holding it there.

Sherlock's eyes widened, and then he was trembling, all over. John pulled out, his hand going to his own cock, stroking hard and fast, watching his sub falling apart, orgasming from just his words. He sank on to his side, panting hard, covered in sweat, spit and cum.

John dropped to his knees, moving quickly in to position. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice rough.

Sherlock obeyed, tilting his face upwards.

The first shot of cum went across his face, but the next few landed in his mouth. John groaned at the sight, rubbing the head of his cock over Sherlock's tongue, shaking with the aftershocks.

"Clean me up," John ordered, a bit breathless.

Sherlock closed his mouth around John, sucking and licking him clean. When he opened up, John pulled his softening cock out. He scooped the cum off his cheek with a finger, and pushed it into Sherlock's mouth. His sub eagerly sucked it clean.

"Good boy," John said. "Now get into bed and drink that glass of water. I'll be back in a minute."

His own legs felt shaky now, but he stumbled to the bathroom. He drank straight from the tap, gulping down cold water, and splashed it all over his face. Towelling off, he eyed himself ruefully in the mirror.

Where the fuck had all that come from?

Shaking his head, he wet a facecloth and took it back to the bedroom. Sherlock was quiet as he cleaned him up, too quiet.

Crawling into bed, he took Sherlock into his arms. Feeling slightly better when the berk curled into him instead of shrinking away. Still trusting him, despite everything they had done tonight.

"Sherlock, are you in pain? Do you want an ice pack for your ass?"

Sherlock shook his head. "It's my punishment."

"Yes," John said, but still felt troubled by everything. "You did beautifully. Took it well. Obeyed me."

The words seemed to help, his sub relaxing a bit more against him.

John stroked along his arm and down his back. "Have you learned your lesson, Sherlock?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, looking down. "Not to be so reckless. To tell people where I'm going."

"And the last thing?"

Sherlock always looked heart-breakingly beautiful after an intense session. His eyes were large and vulnerable, showing more emotions than he normally did. But today he seemed distressed, looking away as a tear seeped out.

John gathered him close, stroking along his back. "What is it, Sherlock? What has you so upset?"

Pushing his face against John's neck, Sherlock didn't answer. John felt him shudder, and realized he was crying.

"Sweetheart," John said, almost crying himself at the pain his sub was experiencing. He never had used the endearment before, but it just slipped out now.

It just made Sherlock cry harder. John felt useless, just holding his sub and rubbing his back, making comforting noises.

Eventually, Sherlock calmed down, and John wiped his tears away. "I'm so, so sorry Sherlock. Obviously we went too far tonight. You should have safeworded. I should have gone easier on you. We will talk about it more when we have slept. Do you feel safe staying with me tonight, or do you want to be alone?"

Sherlock looked even more distressed at that, clutching John close and burying his face against his chest.

John took that to mean Sherlock wanted him to stay, so he pulled the blankets up over them. Sherlock was worn out and fell asleep fairly quickly. John was exhausted too, but he was still staring at the ceiling, stroking gently over Sherlock's hair, an hour later.

...

John woke up feeling like he had hardly slept. Luckily it was Sunday and he had the day off.

After a quick trip to the washroom, he took a couple tablets of paracetamol and a glass of water to the bedroom.

Sherlock was still in bed, his eyes open but his face strangely blank. John passed him the medicine and water and he took it without complaint.

"How are you feeling, Sherlock?" John asked, feeling worried at his demeanour. "Is your ass, or your throat, um, sore?"

John felt totally out of his element. He was a doctor, used to helping injured and sick people. And here was his boyfriend, his sub, hurt by him.

Do no harm.

Sherlock sat up, looking away. "I'm fine, John."

His voice sounded normal. John was half-expecting it to be scratchy. He was moving gingerly, shifting to sit up against the headboard, his ass definitely aching.

"You are not fine, Sherlock! You were crying in my arms last night!" John burst out, his frustration at its limits.

Sherlock cringed, looking upset again.

Great. Shouting really helped. John ran a hand through his hair. "Look, can I get in bed with you? We need to talk. Please."

Sherlock nodded, scooting back across the bed, lying on his side. Still a good obedient sub.

John crawled under the covers, leaning against the headboard. "Look, please just talk to me as an equal. We are not dom and sub now."

"We aren't?" Sherlock asked, his eyes looking troubled again.

"Please, Sherlock, talk to me. Was the spanking too much?"

"No," he replied, his voice barely a whisper, staring at the bedsheets.

"What I did after? Fucking your face?" John cringed slightly as he said it. But he could hardly call it a blow job. It had been much rougher than that.

"No!" Sherlock protested a bit stronger. "I love that."

John nodded. What they had done last night wasn't that different than things they had done before.

"I know it was something, Sherlock. Was it the way I talked to you, calling you a 'dirty slut'? I just meant it as dirty talk, to turn you on. I didn't really mean any of it," John said gently. It was sometimes hard to remember how inexperienced Sherlock truly was, not even watching much porn.

Sherlock was silent, his eyes still downcast.

John moved closer. "Sherlock? Was that it? It was just sexy talk. We don't have to ever do that again, if it bothers you."

His eyes seemed enormous when Sherlock finally met John's gaze. "It doesn't matter if you say it or not, John. I know what you are thinking now. That I'm a dirty slut. Not even worthy of your touch."

"What?!" John rocked back, shocked at his words. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"I'm a very observant man, John." Sherlock sat up, cringing in pain as he shifted on his sore ass. "I saw the way you looked at the mark on my neck. I disgusted you, from being a slut. Letting another man touch me. When I was aroused, you couldn't stand to touch me. I've fucked everything up between us."

"Oh," John said, seeing it all from Sherlock's point of view. "I understand why you see it that way, but you misunderstood my actions. I'm the one who fucked things up."

Sherlock still looked upset, so John rushed to explain.

"Look, I didn't like seeing you with that other man, and I don't like seeing that mark on your neck. But I know you were there for a case, not because you desired him, right?" John said, choosing his words carefully.

"Of course. There are very few men who interest me sexually."

John took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It helped somehow, having that confirmed. "And when I was calling you a dirty slut, it was more in reference to how quickly and easily you get aroused around me. I was spanking you, trying to punish you, and you were getting off on it!"

"And that was bad?" Sherlock asked, the vulnerable look back in his eyes.

"No! God no, Sherlock. It is the hottest thing about you, and I love it. I love being able to turn you on like that. Surely you know that by now?" John said, giving him a tentative smile.

Sherlock squirmed a little. "Um, yeah. That does ring a bell."

It was John's favourite thing, turning him on, making him wait. It was often days between orgasms, and Sherlock got easier and easier to arouse. John loved having this power over his sub. Sherlock gave it gladly, knowing when John finally gave him release, the orgasms were incredible.

"You are getting turned on right now, aren't you?" John said softly, his voice slightly rougher.

Sherlock gave a tiny nod, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Lie down, please," John said, knowing what he needed to do.

It was good to see Sherlock lie down, obeying without hesitation. Trustingly.

John laid close to Sherlock, and looked into his eyes. Letting his expression show how much he cared for this man. Then he rolled closer to give him a soft kiss. "Is this OK?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, still looking a little fragile.

"I want to touch you everywhere, Sherlock. Kiss you everywhere. Is that OK?"

Sherlock's breathing got a little faster at that. "Yes, John."

Smiling, John liked that Sherlock had used his name. They weren't dom and sub now. They were just John and Sherlock.

He started with Sherlock's face, placing gentle kisses everywhere. Along his cheekbones, on his eyelids, down his neck, on his Adam's Apple.

It took a long time, but John enjoyed every second. It was like he was in his own subspace, worshipping this man. Nothing existed but all this lovely skin. This beautiful, unique man.

He took special time with Sherlock's ass. It wasn't red anymore, but the skin was still sensitive. Sherlock shuddered as he kissed all over it.

John stopped. Was Sherlock crying again?

"Can you roll over, Sherlock?" John asked, hoping he hadn't just made things worse.

His eyes went right to Sherlock's face, feeling instantly relieved when his eyes were dry. Realization hit him, and he looked down.

Sherlock was very erect. Obviously he had been responding to John's attentions.

"One last place to kiss and touch," John said softly.

"John," Sherlock said, reaching for him like he wanted to stop him.

But John stretched out between his legs, spreading them wide, and took Sherlock deep. His position gave Sherlock an excellent view, and he often looked up, meeting his gaze.

Sherlock moaned, bucking his hips, a little out of control. John slid his mouth off, going lower, and loved the moans of pleasure his sub was letting out.

"Give me some lube," John said, kissing along Sherlock's thigh.

Passing him a bottle, Sherlock fell back against the pillows. John's fingers and mouth were very talented, quickly making him into a panting, begging mess.

John took Sherlock deep down his throat, and rubbed and tapped against his prostate with his strong fingers. It didn't take long before Sherlock was shuddering against him, cumming hard. Groaning out John's name.

Almost instantly, John was kneeling over Sherlock, pushing into him hard and deep. He was a bit rougher than normal, pounding into him right from the start. Sherlock was still cumming, the weaker aftershocks making his body relax enough to take it. Pushing deep, John came intensely, his mouth clamping down over that red mark on his neck.

Panting, they eventually pulled apart. John curled up next to Sherlock, running his fingers over the mark he'd left, larger and more obvious than the old one. "You are mine. Am I yours?"

"Fuck yeah," Sherlock sighed with a laugh. "As if I have the energy or the desire to ever be with someone else."

"I love you, Sherlock," John said simply, knowing it was true.

Sherlock blinked slowly at the words, like he was trying to translate a foreign language. And then he was blinking fast because his eyes were filling up. "Fuck, you are making me into an emotional mess."

"My emotional mess," John said, gathering the man close in a fierce hug.

"I love you too," Sherlock said against John's chest, and gave a loud sniff that made them both chuckle.

"Good. Now how about we sleep for a week, shower, and go out for huge bowls of pasta?" John said sleepily, the previous night catching up with him.

Sherlock pulled the blankets up, and spooned around John, holding him close.

...

-A/N: Wrote this really fast when I was procrastinating mowing the lawn. It's been a while since I've posted a Johnlock story, but I've missed the guys!

-John and Sherlock go a little beyond what they are experienced in here. It becomes pretty messy, but they fix it in the end.

-Thanks for reading!


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